


In Another Time

by PageTurner29



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Meet-Cute, Oxford, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PageTurner29/pseuds/PageTurner29
Summary: In Chapter 5 of my fic, "Finding Each Other," Finan prays:  “Lord, I don’t deserve her but please let me spend every day of eternity trying to prove myself worthy.”  This is the realization of that prayer.In this AU, Finan and Edith (modern spelling) meet at at BLM protest in Oxford, amidst the pandemic.note: reading my other Eadith/Finan fic is not necessary, although I did include some small nods to it in here.
Relationships: Eadith & Finan (The Last Kingdom), Eadith/Finan (The Last Kingdom)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

“Take it down! Take it down!” Edith chanted, fist raised in the air.

She stood amongst nearly 1000 other protesters on High Street outside of Oriel College. Oxford’s streets rarely buzzed with this kind of energy, especially as of late due to the pandemic, and Edith was relishing the thrill of it. It felt good to be a part of something again and the Black Lives Matter movement was certainly one that she wholeheartedly supported.

Tugging her face mask out of her eyes, she stared up at the college’s sandstone facade, an intricately carved beauty that had stood the tests of time, or at least the last 700 years. Usually she adored the history of these buildings, but today she stood in solidarity with those who were calling for the removal of the Cecil Rhodes statue that stood above one of the college’s entrances. Edith agreed with her fellow students and Oxonians that, as a proponent of racism and apartheid in South Africa, his likeness should no longer be a part of the city’s architectural landscape.

“Oi, there’s the cameras! Let’s get up there!” a deep voice behind her said. “I can tell my mum I was on the telly!” another more feminine voice squealed.

“Freakin’ social media whores,” Edith thought before suddenly, finding herself shoved to the side as a young male and female, hand in hand, squeezed past her to try and get into the camera’s sightline. Losing her balance, she felt her left foot twist as it fell awkwardly off of the sidewalk and onto the pavement in the street. A sharp pain shot up her leg as she fell and she found herself almost face-down amongst the protesters, most of whom were now also clamoring to get in front of the cameras. The protest had been peaceful and orderly all morning, but for a moment Edith felt terrified that she would be trampled. As she scrambled to get up, someone moving past her accidentally kicked her injured ankle, causing white hot pain to flood her senses.

“Whoa, whoa! Move! Please!” she heard a male voice say. The authority in his voice obviously worked, because she watched the shadows around her clear as people stepped aside to give her space. A gentle hand appeared on her back as the voice, now closer to her ear and softer asked, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, it’s just my ankle,” she said meekly, as she turned to move into a sitting position on the asphalt. She moved too quickly though and exhaled a quiet, “Mother Fucker!” through gritted teeth as she bumped her own ankle against the ground again.

A chuckle drew her eyes up to her rescuer’s face for the first time. He was a young man, about her age. He had messy deep brown hair and eyes that were a nearly identical match in colour. A trim beard peaked out from underneath his black face mask. She couldn’t help but notice how broad his shoulders were, as well as how his shirt seemed to barely be able to contain his arms. She began to chide herself for this observation, especially at a time like this, when she was surprised to feel him bring her closer to him. Surprise progressed to horror as one of his arms wrapped around her back and the other tucked under her legs. With seemingly no effort at all her hoisted her off of the ground, ignoring her shocked squeak.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said by way of explanation. He walked her through the crowd and across High Street, setting her down on one of the benches outside of St. Mary’s Church. Once she was settled, he knelt before her, head bowed as he looked at her leg, like a knight before his lady.

“May I?” he asked, having to speak a little loudly over the protests across the street. She looked at him confused for a moment before she realized that he was pointing at her ankle, and asking permission to examine it. He took her silence as consent, and before she could stop him he deftly picked up her injured foot and placed it on his bent knee. She waited for the jolt of pain but it did not come. As he delicately prodded at her foot, his eyes came up to meet her own, searching for any signs of pain. She winced a little as he found a tender spot, and he gave what she was sure was an apologetic smile beneath his mask.

Coming closer to her ear so that she could hear him, he said, “It’s just a sprain, but you should get some ice on it quickly,” he pulled back to look at her and make sure she had heard him. She nodded and he quickly came back to her ear to say, “The cafe in St. Mary’s will have ice. Let’s go there.”

He leaned in again to pick her up but this time she swatted him away, sure that she could only live through that mortifying moment once. He made to argue with her, but she was already lifting herself off of the bench, avoiding putting pressure on her ankle as she did so. When she was standing, she realized that she could not hop her way up the little segment of Catte Street and into the cafe without putting pressure on her ankle. He must have read it on her face because he gently shook his head at her and, before she could object, took one of her arms and threw it over his massive set of shoulders, bringing his other arm around her waist. In this way, he half carried, half supported her to the garden of the Vaults and Gardens cafe.

Little tables were dispersed amongst the flowers and gravestones, under the shadow of St. Mary’s church. Before them loomed the Radcliffe Camera, one of Edith’s favourite buildings in all of Oxford. In fact, this cafe was one of her favourite places in the city. When classes were in session she could often be found here in the mornings, with a giant cup of tea and a fruit scone slathered in some of the cafe’s house made jam. It was quiet here. Even though the protest was starting to break up as they had left High Street, Edith would have still expected to hear chants or shouting here. She was pleased to see that the peace of this place remained unchanged.

Gently, her new friend set her down in one of the chairs in the garden. He took off the backpack that he had been carrying and set it down on another chair in front of her before gently lifting her leg and placing her foot on his makeshift elevated cushion.

“Thank you,” she said, hoping that her eyes conveyed her genuine appreciation. “I’m Edith,” she continued, sticking out her hand out of habit for a handshake before remembering that they were in the middle of a pandemic and handshakes weren’t really a thing currently - they may never be again. At the last minute, she turned her outstretched hand into an awkward sort of wave - cringing as she did it. What was she doing?

He laughed, a genuine deep laugh. “I’m Finan,” he said, “the mates that I don’t like call me Finn.”

She laughed. Now that they were away from the noise of the protest, she could clearly hear the soft brogue of his Irish accent.

“Well, thank you very much for your help today, Finan,” she said, careful to call him by the name that he obviously preferred. He waved her off like it was nothing and then turned to look at the little arched doorway that led to the nunnery-turned-cafe in the church’s basement.

“I’ll get you some ice,” he said. “What can I get you to eat or drink?”

“No, no, let me get _you_ something,” Edith protested, digging a £10 pound note from her pocket and practically shoving it into his large hand. “It’s the least I can do,” she said almost pleadingly as he began to argue. Something in her eyes must have convinced him that arguing would be futile because he just sighed and shook his head.

“You still haven’t answered my question though,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone that made her want to blush and smile at the same time.

“Their house blend tea, please,” she answered. “With milk!” she called, as he began to walk into the cafe.

A few minutes later, Finan was back.

“Milady,” he said, as he placed a large bag of ice across her ankle. She couldn’t help but sigh as the cold immediately soothed the throbbing she felt there. Finan placed a large tea on the table beside her and an iced coffee beside it. Borrowing another chair from an empty table he placed it several feet away from her, angling it so that they could both stare at the Radcliffe Camera while they drank and talked, but not be too close to each other either.

“Must maintain social distancing,” he said, half joking.

“I believe that you broke that the moment that you swept me up like some sort of lost princess and carried me across High Street,” she laughed as she pulled off her face mask.

“If the shoe fits…” he chuckled, as he pulled off his own mask, clearly pleased with his Cinderella/Disney princess reference. It was nice to see his whole face for once. His smile was warm, and it made his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Do you often rescue damsels in distress?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea. It was the perfect ratio of tea and milk. “Well done, sir,” she thought.

“You are my first, Lady,” he said, eyes twinkling as he smiled at her.

“Well, I am honoured, my Lord,” she said, enjoying their silly banter. “You could do this for a living,” she added.

“I think it may be best to stop while I’m ahead,” he quickly replied, giving her a wink that made her heart flutter in an embarrassing way.

This type of flirting was new to her. Edith knew that she was pretty enough, and she’d had boyfriends before, but she’d always felt like she was on defense in the flirting game. Some brash boy - for they always acted like boys, they were never truly men- would come up to her in a bar and make some crass comment. She would awkwardly deflect and not know what to do with their intentions. Eventually, they would wear her down and she would convince herself that they were charmingly confident, not rude or overbearing as she had initially thought. The relationship, if some of them could even be called that, would run its course and she was always left realizing that her initial instincts were correct and that they had, in fact, been rude man-children who hadn’t deserved her time in the first place.

This, however, was different. This felt easy and natural. The usual pit of dread in her stomach that appeared when a man looked her way was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t overtly pursuing her. Rather, she found herself wanting to pursue him and know more about him.

She realized that he was still staring at her and she felt her cheeks flush, not knowing how long she had been staring back. She self-consciously tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear and decided it was time to cut the tension by feeding her curiosity about this Irishman.

“Are you a student here? What are you studying?” she asked, wrapping her hands around her tea, grateful for the grounding of its warmth despite the warm June day.

“Social Policy and Intervention,” he said before taking a sip of his iced coffee.

“Interesting!” she said with genuine enthusiasm. “Why that?”

“To make the world a better place,” he offered with an intentionally cheesy grin. She chuckled, but then his face grew more serious and he gave a small sigh before continuing, “I remember learning about slavery as a lad in school. It made me sick to my stomach that human beings could do that to other human beings. Then, as I got older, I realized that we still do that to each other, we just call it a different name. Inequality still exists...obviously,” he said, waving his hand towards High Street and the protesters that were undoubtedly still there. “I want to do my best to change that,” he said with a self-conscious shrug.

“I respect that...tremendously,” she said, and she meant it. He met her eye and smiled, pleased that his honesty with her had not been in vain.

Encouraged, he added, “I’m also part of the UOTC.”

She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, clearly confused as to what that was.

“It’s the University Officers Training Corps,” he explained. “They provide military and leadership training while I go to school. When I finish my program I can decide whether to join the armed forces or not.”

“And will you?” Edith asked, leaning forward to better see his face, as they still sat at an awkward angle from each other.

He shrugged, “I’m undecided. I don’t want to spend my life behind a desk - I’ll go mad. The armed forces may provide me with an outlet to enact the change that I want, and it certainly beats life in a cubicle. I just have to wait and see what the world holds for me.”

She nodded at this, taking this information in and adding it to the picture she was forming about the man alongside her.

“What about you?” he asked, turning to look at her now.

She knew that the question was coming, yet she still dreaded answering it. Actually, it wasn’t her answer that she dreaded - she loved her program. Rather, it was the reaction, particularly from males, that she got whenever she answered this question. Taking a breath, she ripped off the proverbial band-aid and said, “Women’s Studies, focusing on the influence of women on medieval history.”

She waited for the twitch of a smile or chuckle that usually came at this point in the conversation, but none came this time. Instead, she was only met with the steady gaze of two brown eyes. This was new.

“Tell me more,” he said, without a hint of sarcasm.

She smiled, unsure of where to begin. Discussion of her program never made it this far, unless it was to other academics within her program.

“Women have had an influential role in shaping history, yet they’ve been continuously marginalized. It’s only within the past 50 years or so that they’ve been given any significant place in history books. But, it is impossible that the world we know today would have occurred if not for women helping to shape it, even behind the scenes.” She took a sip of her tea and tried not to absorb the fact that his eyes still hadn’t left her face.

“Medieval texts entirely focus on men and their contributions to society - they intentionally leave women out. So...I dig up their stories. I find evidence of their existence and place it back within the narrative.”

She had been staring at her tea cup while she talked but now she forced herself to meet his eye again. She was surprised to see that he was engaged and smiling still, and not a forced or placating smile either.

“You don’t seem surprised by my program choice,” she said, still not trusting his interest in her.

“Well, I’m not really surprised,” he said softly.

“Why?!” she asked defensively, feeling like the insult she had been waiting for was finally coming for her. But then he let his eyes fall to her chest and smiled. Self-consciously she looked down, before letting out a laugh. She’d chosen her t-shirt this morning for it’s black colour, thinking that it seemed fitting for the Black Lives Matter protest. However, she had forgotten until this moment that it was emblazoned with the slogan, “Feminism is my second favourite F word.”

She felt the defensive anger that had risen in her chest moments ago replace itself with embarrassment over her foolishness. “If the shirt fits!” she laughed, shaking her head at herself.

He laughed along with her for a moment, but then his eyes grew serious again and he added, “Truly though, I admire what you do. I know we just met, but hopefully you believe me when I say that I’m all for anything that addresses the inequalities of history.”

She felt herself sit up straighter and gave a half nod of acknowledgement to the sincerity in his gaze. “Thank-you” she said quietly.

“Did you stay here for the entire lockdown?” he asked, breaking eye contact and slurping up the last of his drink.

“Yes,” she answered quickly - too quickly. “There was no point in going home.”

The truth was that there was no real home to go back to. Her mother had died seven years ago, and since then her father had become a raging alcoholic who had lost their house to the bank when his gambling debts piled up. She hadn’t heard from her brother in almost a year. He had spent the last few years chasing greatness and “the next big thing,” - a form of gambling on its own that never seemed to pan out for him. She had tried in vain, for years, to help them both and to hold the family together. Eventually, however, she realized that the only one who she could save was herself. So she had, even as it broke her heart to do so. Birmingham held nothing for her now.

She realized that Finan was watching her as these memories flickered through her. He knew that there was more to the story, but he wasn’t going to push her.

“What about you? Are you from Ireland?” she asked, trying to deflect attention away from her.

Now, it was his turn to look uncomfortable.

“England is my home now,” he said briskly. Then, almost wistfully, he added, “Ireland holds nothing for me anymore.” His lips pressed into a thin line that told her there was pain there, and she wasn’t going to press him for it, especially after he had done her the courtesy of ignoring her own cagey answer.

He broke the silence by nodding towards her ankle, “How’s it feel?”

“Chilly!” she laughed, glad for the change of topic.

Getting up, he carefully removed the ice and examined her foot that was now red with cold.

He gently rubbed his hand across her foot, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through her. The gentleness of his fingers on her skin overwhelmed her, and she found it hard to respond when he looked up at her to ask, “Do you want to try standing on it?”

“Yes,” she forced herself to say.

Without hesitation he came to her side, once again placing her arm around his shoulders and his other hand around her waist. Taking what seemed like all of her weight he effortlessly helped bring her to a standing position. Cautiously, she put her left foot on the ground and put a little weight on it. She was surprised to find that, while it still ached and felt tender, she could at least do a decent hobble.

“Well done, Doctor!” she said, as she hobbled a step or two ahead of him. She was pleased with her independence but already missed the feel of his body close to hers. “I owe you a drink - several actually,” she said, flashing him her best smile.

“I hardly think that applying ice makes me a qualified health professional,” he chuckled. “And you already bought me a drink, remember?” he said, grabbing their drink containers and throwing them in the nearby bin.

She had been hoping that he would take her up on her offer so that she could see him again. “But, perhaps this is where he wants to end it,” she thought, already feeling her guard come back up.

“Where do you live?” he asked as he looked around them. It was as if he expected to see a neon sign that said, “Edith’s place, here!”

“Brasenose,” she said, pointing across the square to the college that was only 60 feet away

“Well, that’s convenient!” he said, with a grin. Throwing his backpack on he offered her his arm for support as she carefully hopped up the handful of stairs leading out of the cafe garden and into the square.

She went slow, both out of caution and out of a desire to prolong her time with him. She didn’t know when she would see Finan again, if ever, and the thought of saying good-bye now left her panicked.

For his part, Finan didn’t complain. He even brought his other hand to cover hers as it lay across his arm. His thumb stroked against her wrist and she found herself having to put an inordinate amount of focus into putting one foot in front of the other.

Despite her best efforts, they reached the ancient wooden door that led into the college. Using her key she opened it and he followed her into the entry-way of the college’s courtyard.

“My room is just over there,” she said, pointing to the nearby window of her main floor room. “I can manage.” Normally she loathed her room’s close location to the college gate, but today she was grateful for the fact that she wouldn’t have to hobble too far or go up stairs.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, suddenly unsure how to say good-bye.

“It was nothin’ “ he said, slowly releasing his grip on her arm. “It was lovely to meet you Edith. I hope to see you around soon,” he added quietly. His eyes twinkled and held a promise of something which she hoped to be true.

“I hope so too. Bye for now, Finan,” she said, as she forced herself to turn from him and hobble away to the door leading to her dorm. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to ask for his number or email. She’d been ghosted too many times and she didn’t trust that what she felt was real. If it was, she just wanted to hope that they would meet again.

Finan watched her go, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as her red hair vanished into a dark doorway. Shoving his hands in his pockets he turned to go, before suddenly stopping and smiling. Looking up, he realized he was outside of the porter’s lodge.

Walking in, he smiled at the older gentleman manning the desk and asked, “Can I borrow a pen and a piece of paper, please?”

===

A few days later, Edith stopped by the porter’s lodge to collect her mail. She wasn’t exactly sure why she checked it anymore - there was never anything from home. Occasionally though, there was a postcard or note from her friend Imogen back home - the last link there she had. She was surprised, however, when the porter handed her a crudely folded piece of paper.

She could not help the smile that threatened to split her face in two as she unfolded the note and a £10 note nearly fell onto the floor at her feet. _“Guess you owe me a drink still! - F (in application to become your third favourite F word.)_ Her thumb stroked the phone number he had scrawled in the right hand corner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _*throws around cheesy romance novel/movie devices like confetti because I can**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! 3 new chapters. These had been floating around in bits and pieces and I was finally able to sew them together. Enjoy!

“Why are you shitting yourself?” Sihtric yelled down the hall towards the bedrooms. He was sprawled across the flat’s lone couch, game controller in hand. 

“I’m not shittin’ myself,” huffed Finan, pulling a green shirt over his head as he walked into the room. “I just didn’t like that shirt.” 

“Or the one before it,” snickered Sihtric. 

“Or the one before that,” Osferth called from the kitchen. 

Finan glowerd at both of them, but they were immune to his dark looks by now. 

“Not all women are like Aels and willing to put up with beer stains on their date’s shirts,” Finan shot as he walked past and gently slapped Sihtric on the side of the head. 

Osferth chuckled at that, but Sihtric quickly retorted, “Which is why she’s the girl for me!” 

Finan shook his head in exasperation as he pulled on his boots. 

“Uh uh,” Osferth said, coming to stand at the entrance of the kitchen. He pointed his chin towards a pair of loafers sitting in the entry closet. “Those ones,” he said quietly. 

“Yer worse than I am,” grumbled Finan, but he swapped his shoes without further debate. Osferth was nearly always right when it came to these things. 

“Better,” Osferth said with an appraising look as Finan stood. Smiling, he handed Finan his backpack. It was heavy and cold against Finan’s back. 

“A cold picnic for a hot day,” Osferth said with a smug smile. “Make sure you lay out and open the entire spread before digging in. I’ve added some great toppings and a fantastic smoked salt that I picked up at the Corn Market. I highly recommend it for the chicken salad.” 

“Thanks, lad,” Finan said, slapping him on the back as he opened the door. He ignored Sihtric’s crude comments as he closed it behind him. 

Glad to be out of their Jericho flat for the first time in days, Finan took a deep breath of the fresh air. With COVID-19 still raging across the country, although in better numbers now than it had been, he had tried to avoid going out as much as possible. The whole thing made him nervous any time he was around people.

Tonight, however, he has nerves for an entirely different reason. Tonight is the first time he is taking Edith on a proper date. He smiled, remembering the first text she had sent him a few days after their first meeting; “Would you consider being my fourth favourite F word? French Fries are a strong candidate for third.” 

Since then they had spoken daily by text and Facetime. They’d even watched movies together from afar - pressing play on their Netflix selection and Facetiming as they watched “together.” Although, if Finan, was being honest, he could tell you very little about the films they had watched because he had spent most of the time watching her. 

There was something magnetic about his attraction to Edith, and unlike anything he had felt before. He’d been drawn to her since the first time he had seen her. Her red hair blowing in the breeze the day of that Black Lives Matter protest had kept drawing his eye, until he realized that he was constantly mindful of where she was. He still couldn’t explain it but the second he laid eyes on her, just the back of her head, it was like an invisible thread connected them and he felt a pulling sensation in his belly whenever she strayed too far from him. “Is this how stalkers are born?” he had chided himself, surprised by his inexplicable attraction to her. But, when he saw her fall to the pavement he had practically mowed over a half dozen people to get to her side. After that, their connection had seemed genuine and she hadn’t left his mind since. 

“Be there in 15,” he texted as he turned onto Beaumont Street. He was used to walking at a brisk pace, but he had to focus on slowing his gait today. He didn’t want to get to Edith’s unfairly early, nor did he want to arrive a hot and sweaty mess. 

Feeling his phone buzz in his hand he looked down and smiled as he read, “Good, plenty of time to get this other bloke out of here.”

“If he only needs 15 mins, then you need to find a new bloke,” he wrote back cheekily.

“Applications are open,” came the immediate reply. Finan was grateful for her quick wit. Most women were too easy to offend and took his teasing to heart. Edith, however, always took it in stride, which made him want to be extra careful not to ruin it by crossing the line or going too far in his jabs. So, he left the conversation at that and focused on meeting his date on time.

Despite his efforts, he found himself outside of Brasenose College early. Leaning against the fence that surrounded the Rad Cam, he pulled out his phone once more. “Waiting outside.” he texted. Before, adding “No rush,” not wanting to seem demanding or impatient, even though he felt like he’d been waiting forever for this. 

He didn’t have to wait long though. The wooden door of the college opened and Finan felt himself mutter, “Sweet Jesus” under his breath. 

Edith walked towards him. She was in a violet coloured dress that fell just past her knee, ruffles and soft fabric following her body’s every movement. It’s colour highlighted her emerald eyes and copper hair, which was half-up, allowing him to clearly see her beautiful face, while the rest flowed down her back. She smiled as she saw him, and his heart felt like it might burst within his chest. 

“I am in trouble,” he thought to himself, even though he had known the truth of that long ago. 

“Hello,” she greeted him as she came up to him. Her smile was warm, but he could tell by the way that she clasped her hands that she felt as awkward and nervous as he did. 

“Hi,” he managed to reply back, suddenly unsure of what to say without the safety of a phone between them. He held her gaze for a full beat, before he managed, “Ready for an adventure?” 

“Absolutely!” she enthused. He turned and started walking across the square as she fell into step beside him. His hands felt like weights at his side, unsure of what to do with themselves. His right hand twitched out of desire to grasp hers, but it seemed too soon for that. So, he contented himself with hooking his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. 

“You are beautiful,” he managed, now that he wasn’t directly facing her. Although, he couldn’t help himself from turning his head in her direction as he said it. Her pale skin flushed and she laughed shyly.

“No one has ever said that to me before.”

“I refuse to believe that,” he said, brow arched up towards his dark hair. 

“I mean, I’ve been told I look pretty, but never that I AM…” she trailed off, embarrassed.

“My mother always used to say, ‘You either are beautiful or you are not. You can’t look beautiful, just like you cannot look kind.” 

“Wise words,” Eadith said, grinning at the ground as they stepped onto High Street. “Thank you,” she added, more quietly. 

“Those shoes though,” he said, pointing at her dainty wedge sandals, “those are lovely but they are a second ankle injury waiting to happen.” 

She laughed, and he was glad to see the awkward tension he had created break. “I haven’t worn anything nicer than jeans and a t-shirt in months. I wanted to dress up. And, I will have you know that I walked halfway across London in these last summer. My ankles remained unscathed - not even a blister. I’ll be fine.”

“Besides,” she added, giving him a devilish grin, “I have you to carry me, if I do.” 

He laughed at that. “First ride was free, m’lady. After that I charge for every 10 feet carried.” 

“How noble of you, sir,” she teased.

They continued like that, bantering back and forth as they meandered down Rose Lane, making their way to Christ Church Meadow. The July sun was warm as they came upon the open grassy area, interspersed with bursts of blue and pink wildflowers. Normally, the meadow would be rather busy on a hot summer day like this. However, many restaurants and shops had just opened up, and the majority of Oxonians left in the city had opted to head there for a night out rather than stay in nature. They were here because the thought of someone else handling his food and drink in the time of a pandemic freaked Finan out. Edith, bless her, had understood and been completely up for his picnic away from the crowds. 

“Over here may be a good spot,” Edith said, wading into the grasses towards a group of massive, old trees. Finan followed her and, as they reached the base of one of the larger trees, he spread out the blanket that Osferth had packed. Edith laughed as Finan pulled one meticulously packed dish after another out of his bag, spreading them out before her on the blanket. 

“I believe that I may have picked the wrong flatmate,” Edith teased, reaching for a container of grapes and cheese.

“Oh, most definitely you did, but unfortunately you’re going to have to wait in line as Osferth is never short on dates,” he laughed. “So, you’re stuck with me, and -” he said as he gently swatted her hand away, - “he will skin me alive if I don’t follow his instructions. I am to ensure that everything is laid out for your eyes to feast upon before we formally dig in.”

“Skinning you alive sounds a bit extreme for a theology major,” Edith chuckled. 

“Have ya never heard of the Spanish Inquisition then?” Finan said, sparing her a glance and a wink as he removed lids from containers. 

Once he had shown and explained everything to her, as per Osferth’s instructions, they feasted. Edith squealed in delight when Finan also produced a couple of bottles of her favourite cider from the depths of his bag. She had mentioned being unable to find it during the lockdown. Finan shrugged nonchalantly when she asked how he had procured some, but in truth he had spent over an hour on the phone calling every liquor store in the city before he was able to find a vendor with some bottles left. 

“To new adventures,” he said, tipping the bottom of his bottle towards her for a toast. As Edith returned his cheers, she smiled, a little dimple forming at the corner of her mouth, and Finan felt his heart squeeze a little too tightly. 

“So tell me,” he said, forcing himself to focus on his salad instead of her, “what has been the best part of your research so far?”

“You want to know about my research?” she said, looking at him dubiously. 

“I do,” he said, looking at her again with a steady gaze so that she would know he was serious. 

She paused only for a moment, staring up at the blue sky as it peeked through the trees, before answering, “We’ve discovered evidence of a warrior nun. She was named Hild and, based on mentions of her in several nunnery records around England, she moved around quite a bit and travelled with bands of warriors. Before the lockdown we found a record in Cookham of an abbess from the same time period who stored weapons and trained all of her nuns to fight in the event of an invasion. We think it’s her - Hild.”

“That is pretty bad-ass,” Finan said, the admiration in his voice genuine. He liked how her eyes sparkled when she talked about her research. 

“She’d give you and Sihtric a run for your money, soldier boy,” she teased. 

“No doubt, when it comes to Sihtric,” Finan grinned. “I, however, would never dream of going toe to toe with a nun. Good Irish Catholic boy and all…” This made her laugh.

They spent nearly the next 2 hours working their way through the mountain of food and easily chatting. They talked about their programs and favourite spots in Oxford. He regaled her with stories of his misadventures with Sihtric and Osferth, simply trying to make her laugh so that he could hear it over and over again. 

He noticed that she was vague about her childhood and life at home. He knew her mother had passed a few years ago, and they had bonded over that as he too had lost his mother. She tended to gloss over any mention of her father or brother, and he never pried. He, of course, had his own family issues that he would rather not discuss. 

Eventually, they packed up the mostly empty containers and walked out of the meadow. As they strolled back up the lane towards High Street, Edith grabbed his arm. 

“Will you come on another adventure with me? Tonight?” she asked. “I promise - nothing with crowds. This night is just too beautiful to waste.”

“O'course,” he said, glad to spend every moment possible with her. “But can I drop my bag in your room so that I don’t have to carry half of my pantry around Oxford for the night?”

She nodded and slid her hand down his arm, interlacing her fingers with his. His skin burned where she touched, and he could swear he felt current flowing between their palms. He noticed that she was softly biting the corner of her lip, and he wondered if she felt it too - this energy between them. Had she felt this way before? He certainly hadn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ll take it,” she said, holding her hand out for the bag as they came back to Brasenose. “I’m not supposed to have male visitors who aren’t part of the college. Joe’s on duty tonight and he’s a bit of a stickler.” 

“Oh, Joe and I go way back,” he chuckled. “He made sure my message got to ya,” but he handed her his bag anyway.

Once she’d returned, they strolled aimlessly through Oxford’s streets. They created a game where they evaluated each busker or street performer on a scale of 7. 

“5 is too little and 10 too vast,” Finan had said, even though he had made the rule up on the fly. Edith, however, didn’t argue, and she took their game very, very seriously. Most buskers scored a 5, losing points for their wardrobe or an unoriginal song. There were a few though, whom Edith was seemingly willing to fight to the death for. 

“Look at his fake parrot that he’s brought with him. They even have matching hats! That deserves at least another full point for commitment and originality,” she argued with him when he had said that one busker was a little lackluster. 

However, regardless of score, Edith diligently went to each one and dropped change in their instrument cases or hats. 

“Everyone’s struggling right now. Any attempt to bring joy to the world should be rewarded,” she had said when he raised an eyebrow at her for giving a horrible trumpet player a few coins.

When they came across a female violinist on Turl Street, they stopped to listen for several minutes. The song was a cover of something familiar but Finan couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, was beautiful. When he realized Edith was digging in her bag for more change he gently squeezed her hand and placed a small bill into it. 

“I’ve got this one,” he said. She grinned and practically skipped up to the busker just as she switched to another pretty rendition of a familiar tune. This one he knew was an Ed Sheeran song, one that was particularly perfect for how he was feeling in that moment, looking at her. Edith began to gently sway to the tune as she looked back at him and smiled. He felt it again, that pulling sensation in his gut. It was as if he was tethered to her and she was drawing him into her orbit. 

He remembered one of his early philosophy classes. The Ancient Greeks, and most famously Plato, believed that the gods created soul mates by splitting one soul in half, dividing it amongst two people. Thus, dooming humanity to forever spend eternity looking for the other half that would make them feel whole. He had always laughed at the idea, but he believed it now. He felt like he had spent eternity in search of her. 

“Dance with her,” whispered a voice in his head and, despite the fact that he hated dancing, that tether pulled him towards her. It was then that he felt a wet splat hit his arm, followed by another at his foot. Looking up he saw that the sky was quickly darkening and, as if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. The violinist quickly packed up her instrument and music, giving a nod of thanks to Edith as she gave her the money. 

“We should make a run for it,” he said, as the rain started to steadily fall around them. Brasenose was around the corner and without saying so they both silently agreed to head that way. Hand in hand they ran down the small cobblestone street. Her foot slipped as they turned the corner onto High. He looked down at her, worried she’d hurt herself, but she just laughed and mumbled, “Stupid shoes!” which made him laugh too. 

The rain was coming down in sheets as he pulled her up St. Mary’s Passage and they took cover under an awning. She laughed as she looked down at her soaked dress, hair plastered against her face. She laughed harder as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and attempted to ring it out. 

When she noticed where they were though, she stopped. Her laughing smile was replaced by a smaller, more reverent one. Gently, she stroked the lion that was carved into the door that they were leaning against. 

“This is the Narnia door,” she said, barely loud enough for him to hear her over the downpour. He nodded, aware of the door’s infamy. It was said that the door led to the office that C.S. Lewis used for several years before writing his famous books. Two golden satyrs decorated either edge of the awning and mere steps away was a lamp post. 

“When I first moved to Oxford, I came in the midst of a summer music festival,” she said, smiling at the memory. “The streets were overflowing with people. The city was loud. Buses full of tourists were packed bumper to bumper in the street. You could barely move down the sidewalks. I was fighting to drag my suitcase down High Street when I felt myself start to panic. This was not what I thought Oxford would be like, and the crowds were overwhelming. I found this side street, which was surprisingly empty, and hauled myself and my bag down it. I remember leaning against this door and trying to stop myself from having a full blown panic attack. Then, I looked up and saw them,” she said, pointing at the satyrs. 

“I immediately realized where I was. I read the Narnia books so many times as a kid that my copies fell apart. I used to run to my Gran’s after school to watch the BBC series because she was the only one who would let me watch it. I would check the back of every closet and wardrobe for secret entrances to hidden lands. I wanted to run away to Narnia so badly. I needed to escape to where goodness prevailed. I wanted a Mr. Tumnus or an Aslan who would see me and value me like they did Lucy. I wanted to be a queen.” She laughed softly to herself. He held her hands, letting her share this part of herself with him.

“I remember ending up here, that first day in Oxford, and feeling like I had run into an old friend when I needed him most. After spending my entire childhood searching, I had finally found my wardrobe. I was home. I had never felt that way before.”

Now, her green eyes swung to Finan’s, and she stepped closer to him. His arms wrapped around her without thinking, and he felt her shiver, whether from the cold or his touch, he didn’t know. 

“I feel like that with you,” she whispered. 

Reaching one hand up he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, before guiding her mouth up to his. Her lips were warm, and he felt heat rush through his body despite the wet and cold. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. Suddenly every little spark he had felt all night exploded into full blown flames. She seemed to feel the same as she moulded her body to his. 

He pressed her shoulders against the door, but kept one hand on the small of her back, pressing her to him at the same time. Her teeth grazed his lip and he moaned. 

“My room?” she asked breathlessly against his lips.

“What about Joe?” he asked, resenting every time she pulled away from him to speak or breathe. 

“I’ll distract him while you run past the door of the porter’s lodge,” she replied, giving him one last hard kiss before pulling away. 

The rain had lessened a bit but was still pouring down. Hand in hand they ran for the college door. She quickly opened it and pulled Finan just inside where he would be unseen by the porter. Shoving her keys back inside her purse she stepped into the Porter’s Lodge, leaving a trail of water behind her. 

“Hi Joe,” she said brightly. Finan heard the old man chuckle as he took in Edith’s drenched appearance. “Do you happen to have my room key?” Finan heard her rustling in her bag. “I have the gate key but can’t find my room one.”

“Of course, Miss. Just a moment, we’ll get you in and dry,” Joe said, and Finan heard a cabinet open. Taking that as his cue, Finan flew past the door and sprinted to the little doorway he had seen Edith disappear into all those weeks ago. 

“Oh, I’m such a dolt!” Finan heard Edith exclaim. “I found it Joe, don’t worry about me!” she called as she nearly ran out of the lodge and to the doorway where he waited. 

“Nicely done,” he complimented her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she opened the door to her room. 

“Now, where were we?” she said as she flung the door open and spun herself around to face him, walking backwards as she pulled him in. 

“Here,” he said, crushing his lips to hers and kicking the door closed behind him. 

===

Edith awoke the next morning to sunlight pouring in her window. She turned away from the brightness and felt the sheet graze across her naked body. The night before came back to her in rapid flashes. Wet clothes slapping onto the floor. Finan’s mouth in so many places. His weight on top of her as he whispered her name. The feeling that every nerve in her body was alive with electricity. Happiness. 

She moved her hand over the bed and found it empty. Dread filled her stomach as she sat up and realized that Finan was gone. Had he really left her like that? Surely she hadn’t been that wrong about him? 

Scanning the room she realized she could just barely see into her bathroom. Her dress was hanging up across the shower curtain rail. It looked nearly dry, so he must have hung it up for her in the night. Had he been gone all of that time? 

Feeling sick with mixed emotion she pulled her purse up off the floor where she had dropped it by the bed and began to look for her phone. Her stomach turned to lead when she realized her keys were gone. What on earth was that boy doing? Why would he take her keys? 

She didn’t have to wonder long though because she immediately heard them jangle in the door. Finan stepped in, holding 2 coffee cups in his hand. His face lit up when he saw her, but quickly shadowed when he saw the look on her face. 

“What’s wrong, love?” he said, setting down the drinks and crawling onto the bed beside her, taking her hand in his. 

“I thought you’d left,” she said looking down at the sheets, feeling confused as her anger and hurt left her and relief rushed in. 

“You thought I’d just gotten up and left ya here? After the night we had?” he asked gently, pulling her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

She bit her lip and nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time. Although she’d never had a night quite like that before. She was ashamed by how quickly her feelings of mistrust had come back. 

“I would never,” he said firmly. "I am so sorry that I scared ya." His brown eyes were full of regret and she felt silly for thinking this man would ever mistreat her like that. 

"I thought you might want caffeine," he said, reaching behind him to grab one of the cups. She smiled as she inhaled the familiar scent of the house blend tea from the Vaults and Gardens cafe. The perfectly milky concoction chased away the remaining nerves in her belly and she gave him a grateful kiss on the cheek. 

"How did you get past the porter?" she asked, taking another sip before she could follow the urge to envelope him in more kisses like last night. 

"Bribery," he quickly replied, giving her a devilish grin. "Plus, Joe informed me this morning that they have security cameras outside the gate and he knew I had come in with ya," he added with a wink. 

"I bought him a coffee in thanks though. For future reference he likes their strongest brew with enough milk and sugar to make a cake," he chuckled. 

"Duly noted," she said with a laugh. "Thanks for this," she added, holding up her coffee cup. "It promotes you to third place standing."

Now it was his turn to laugh, "Above French Fries? I am honoured," he said, putting a hand to his heart. 

They sat there for a moment, sipping their drinks before she could bring herself to ask him the question that had been burning in her mind. 

"What now?" she asked quietly, forcing herself to turn and face him. 

"Well," he said almost apologetically, "you still owe me that drink." His eyes sparkled as she put her head back and laughed, realizing he was right. 

"But I should probably go home and shower first," he said, sniffing his rain scented shirt. 

"Well, in that case..." she said, taking his cup from his hand and placing it on her bedside table beside her own. She pulled him to her and covered his mouth with a long, slow kiss. He moaned as she leaned into him, with only the thin sheet and his shirt separating them. She gasped as he broke away from her mouth and leaned her back, trailing hungry kisses down her neck and collarbone. Oh yes, she remembered this from last night too. She had a new plan, though.

He groaned as she slipped out from underneath him and left the bed, causing him to almost fall face first into the place she had been laying. 

She stood beside the bed, completely naked, enjoying the heat in his eyes as he stared up at her, confused and hungry. 

"I should shower too," she said simply. Turning and strolling into the bathroom, she called back, "Care to join me?" 

She couldn’t help but giggle as she heard him fumbling to get off the bed fast enough to follow her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, a sweet little love story turns into a hot, explicit one. #sorrynotsorry

“Finan, put me out of my misery!” Edith cried. “Please!” she added with a whine.

Face pressed into her belly, Finan chuckled, sending pleasant vibrations throughout her torso. 

“You left me for a month to go traipsing around England,” he growled, grazing his teeth down her side and licking her hip bone. “I’m going to take my time with ya now.”

“I was not traipsing,” she gasped. “I was researching the role of the powerful women behind medieval lords!” She half laughed this last part as his beard tickled the hypersensitive skin of her inner thigh. The space between her thighs ached for him but he was refusing to pay her any attention there. It was infuriating. 

Chuckling, he moved back up the bed slowly, grazing his own naked body against her own. The parts he touched felt like they had been set aflame while the parts he neglected broke out in goosebumps, her skin’s own desperate plea for his attention.

Nuzzling his face into her hair he breathed, “And did you feel powerful when you sent me those naughty pictures last week?” 

He bit her ear lobe and she bit her lip in response, mumbling an “mmm hmm,” as she did so. 

“And what about the very naughty voicemail you left for me the week before that?” he growled as he switched to her other ear lobe. All she could do was gasp in response and arch into him as his palm finally made contact with her breast. 

“Did you enjoy it?” she finally managed to say between halting breaths. 

“Oh yes, several times over,” he said huskily, grinding himself into her hip bone. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. 

“Yes, you did,” he said, as he took her lip between his teeth and gently bit down on it as he simultaneously let his fingers move into the slick space between her legs. She let out a guttural sound that made him chuckle and she was glad, not for the first time that night, that Osferth and Sihtric had made themselves scarce, out on dates of their own. She adored Finan’s flatmates, but no one should have to hear the sounds she knew she would be making tonight. No one except Finan. 

He released her lip, letting her breathe ragged breaths as he slipped a finger inside of her, closely followed by a second. She arched herself up at him, needing more contact. 

“Finan, please,” she begged. 

He moved himself in between her legs and she moaned as he cupped her ass cheek in one hand to hold her in position. He held her there, teasing her one last time as he rubbed himself against her wetness. 

“I missed ya too,” he said, as he plunged himself into her in one deep thrust. She gasped as the pleasure of him filling her spread through her core. She had been aching for this moment for weeks. 

He kept his first thrusts slow, nearly pulling out of her each time before thrusting back again. It didn’t take long though before his control began to slip and his thrusts became more urgent. She hooked her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her. 

He bent down, rolling her left nipple between his fingers while taking her right nipple in his mouth as he thrust into her. This sent her over her peak, as he knew it would. As she pulsed around him, he let himself release too. 

They lay there, breathless for a few moments before he gently turned her face towards him and tenderly kissed her. 

“Welcome home,” he breathed as he smiled against her lips. 

====

Later, after more pleasuring and a shower, they ended up in the kitchen. Both were starving and Edith was perched on the counter top, wine glass in hand, as Finan set about trying to concoct a meal out of leftovers in the fridge. 

She realized that she had become lost in thought, remembering all of the events of the last few weeks, when he lightly touched her hand. She looked up to see a bemused expression on his face. He had obviously been trying to get her attention for some time. 

“Sorry, what was that?” she asked, feeling herself flush a little in embarrassment. 

“I asked if ya wanted questionably old chicken or toast and eggs,” he said with a laugh.

“Toast and eggs sounds perfect,” she with a grin. 

He went about pulling out pans and getting eggs and butter from the fridge, but stopped and came over to her before turning the stove on. 

“Out with it,” he said gently, as he moved to stand between her legs, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Out with what?” she asked, not wanting to do this now and potentially ruin the evening. 

“Out with whatever is causing that cute little line to pop up between those beautiful brows,” he said, bringing a finger up to gently trace the crease that had betrayed her. 

She sighed and put down her wine glass, bringing her arms to rest around his neck. 

“I got a job offer last week,” she said, ripping off the band-aid. 

He took a half step back to look at her, but the smile that cracked across his face was not the reaction she had been expecting. 

“I didn’t know you’d been applying,” he said with surprise. 

“I hadn’t!” she interjected quickly. “One of the people who we met on our research trip is a curator for the British Museum. She’s like a head there. They want to curate a collection called “Women Lost to History, and -” she said, taking a breath and finally allowing some excitement to creep into her voice“-they want me to curate it.” 

“That’s amazing, love!!” Finan exclaimed! He wrapped her in a bear hug and half lifted her from the counter as he did so. 

“It’s a small job now, but it could lead to a much bigger one down the line,” she said with a smile before growing serious again.

“I would have to go to London though, Finan. They want me to start as soon as I’m done sitting my last exam in a few months.” 

“Well, I didn’t expect you to stay in Oxford forever, love,” he said quietly, bending down to try and catch her eye, which had been intentionally staring at the floor and not at him. 

“But, we haven’t talked about…” she began before interrupting herself to add, “Not that I expect you to…” Ugh, how could she tell him that she didn’t want him to feel obligated to join her?

“We’ve only been together a few months,” she said, finally looking up at him and hoping that her eyes would say everything that her guarded heart couldn’t. 

“It has been seven months,” he clarified, “and I have never been happier.” Seeing the doubt in her eyes still, he switched tactics to a more practical application of facts. 

“I graduate just after you. My experience in social policy should help me find something in London. Besides, I will have good references from the UOTC - that should help. ”  
Suddenly, he grew afraid that he had misread her misgivings about the situation and quietly added, “Unless, of course, you don’t want me to follow you. You may want this to be a fresh start.”

“No!” she added emphatically, shaking her head until the crease between his own brow faded away in relief.

“It’s just that I didn’t know what your plans were. You told me the first day we met that you don’t want a desk job. You’d go mad,” she said, parroting his words back at him. “What if that’s all you can find in London? I don’t want you to miss an opportunity or regret anything. The military is dying to recruit you. You could do so much there.”

He sighed and intertwined his fingers in hers. “The only thing that will make me go mad now is not being with you. I don’t want a life in the military, moving from base to base if I can’t do it with you, and I know that’s not the life you want for yourself. I can be happy with a desk if I know that I can do good work from it."

“Besides,” he added with a shrug, “plenty of policy jobs involve some travel. Maybe I can find a happy medium. As long as I get to come back to you,” he said as he gently kissed the tip of her nose. "I will go wherever you go, if you'll let me." He said this last part so earnestly that it made her heart ache. Out of all the people in this world, how had she found him?

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered. 

“It’s the other way around, darlin,” he said gently as he tenderly kissed her. “Now, let’s find me a job in London!”

"I have one condition," she said. He heard the playfulness in her voice and pulled back to see how this would play out. 

"Name it," he said, the corner of his lip tugging into a smirk. 

"Your job must require you to wear a suit every day."

"Alright..." he said tentatively, unsure of where this was going.

"So that I can peel it off of you every day," she said, snaking her hands up the inside of his shirt, relishing the feel of his abs contracting against her touch. 

"Deal," he growled, scooping her up off of the counter and carrying her back to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around him. They were both suddenly hungry for more than eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the reversal in this one, where he is the one willing to follow her and support her dreams. It was fun to write. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of my "Finding Each Other" fic, I said that I had a completely bonkers idea for how to end their story and this was it. I was half a page into writing it when I realized that this needed to be a living, breathing piece of its own. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing it, and it was nice to revisit some of my favourite spots in Oxford. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed. I always appreciate anyone who reads my work. Comments and feedback welcome!


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